Dying Mind
by haveyouseenmyhaggis
Summary: Jim is dying. I cannot deny that fact for it is one that is certain." Spock stays by Jim's bedside at the end of the Captain's life and helps in what way he can. They spend Jim's last moments together, as one. Lots of Spock/Jim angst, Spock's POV.


**Title: Dying Mind**

**Summary:** **"Jim is dying. I cannot deny that fact for it is one that is certain." Spock stays by Jim's bedside at the end of the Captain's life and helps in what way he can. They spend Jim's last moments together, as one. Lots and lots of Spock/Jim angst. Spock's POV.**

**Author's Note: I wrote this because it was playing on my mind all day when I realised Spock would almost certainly out-live Jim. I had to take regular breaks during the writing of this because I felt like I was going to cry. Reviews are very welcome. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Trek. _**

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Jim is dying. I cannot deny that fact for it is one that is certain. He is old and his body will fail him soon. The doctors say he has a mere hour at the most. I will be beside him when it happens. I cannot let him die alone. The one thing he fears is death. The least I can do is stay with him. As I look into the wrinkled, worn face of the man I care so much about, I struggle to keep my emotions in check. I watch the doctors and nurses walk around the ward talking in whispers. Sometimes one will stop by Jim and I to check he is comfortable. He will nod and try to smile then look back at me with terrified eyes.

It was only recently that I really noticed how old Jim had become. I remember the day he'd tripped and fallen and he'd laughed that old age was getting to him. I didn't think it was quite so funny. A human's life span is at least half of that of a Vulcan. Jim is one of my dearest friends and I cannot picture life without him. What is life without those you care about to share it with you? I suddenly notice a tear slipping down Jim's cheek and I reach out and wipe it away. I don't know what to say to him.

"I'm sorry, Spock," Jim says quietly. His voice is scarcely more than a whisper and I feel my heart aching. I try to suppress the feeling as I have been taught. I cannot let my emotions take control.

"For what?" I ask my friend as he reaches for my hand and holds it as tightly as he can.

"For leaving you," he tells me.

"You cannot be held responsible," I inform him firmly. It cannot be his fault that his species do not live as long as mine. He smiles weakly up at me. I will miss his smile.

"Thanks," he says gratefully. For a moment we are silent. The heart rate monitor beeps calmly beside us as it registers every single one of his very human heartbeats. Jim turns his head slowly and watches it with something resembling terror on his face. "Spock...?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"Can you turn that off?" he asks me looking pleading. I raise an eyebrow slightly. I'm not sure it is wise to touch medical equipment without the authorisation of the doctors. Jim seems to sense my hesitation and elaborates, "If I'm going to die, I don't want to hear it happening. Please, Spock." I understand. I let go of his hand and rise to my feet. I walk quickly around the bed and turn off the monitor at the power supply. The screen immediately fades to black and Jim relaxes slightly. I think I agree with him. It isn't fair for him to hear his own failing heart.

"Is there anything else you require?" I ask noticing a large lump in my throat. I try to ignore it - think past it but it proves very difficult. I should not be a victim of such powerful feelings. That is human. That is Jim. I am Vulcan. I should not be feeling this pain. Jim's feelings always fascinated me. The way he reacted so illogically and irrationally to situations made him the textbook human - ruled by emotions and feelings, instinctive and highly illogical. But there was so much more to Jim Kirk - fierce passion, bravery, a strong will, and vicious sense of humor.

"I'm fine," he tells me. I can tell he is trying to make himself believe it too. Jim has never been one to face death willingly. I have known that even since he was a cadet. Jim is watching me curiously as I return to my seat, "Are you okay?"

"How would one be expected to react to watching their best friend die?" I ask unsure of what else I can say. For a man with so much vocabulary I feel relatively speechless.

Jim looks mournfully at me. "So much for there being no such thing as no-win scenarios," he says, "Find me something good that's come out of this." He is bitter; I have come to understand the harsh edge of his voice and the way his brow furrows. Then his face lights up slightly, "Remember when we first joined the _Enterprise_?" he asks with eyes alight with memories.

"Indeed."

"We were at each others throats all the time," he grinned.

"Things have changed," I state. Things have changed very much since then.

He nods and suddenly winces. He reaches out for my hand, which I gratefully offer him, and clings to me. His hand feels frail in mine but I can still feel the strength that he had all those years ago when we first met - fifty-four years ago to be exact. A very long time for a human. For Jim. He opens his eyes and looks at me, terrified. "Spock. No! I... Fuck it! I can't do this!" He screws his eyes shut in evident agony and his back arches slightly. "I don't want this!"

"You are not required to do anything, Jim," I tell him feeling that odd sensation that something is shattering within my chest. He is crying and babbling near hysterically. For a moment I don't know what to do. Then, slowly, I reach forwards and take his face between my hands. "Calm down, Jim. I can help."

"Dammit, Spock," he gasps, "It hurts!" His hands tighten around my wrists and his eyes are wild. "Help me, Spock. Help..."

I am unsure of the origin of his pain but I know I must help in anyway I can. I cannot sit and watch my friend in so much pain. I shut my eyes slowly and feel for the corners of his mind. Jim whimpers slightly but I feel him relax slightly in my grip. I can suddenly feel every single emotion he is feeling; fear, despair, pain... I ease myself into his mind as I've practised many times before and delve into his rippling thought patterns. I'm dimly aware of his body sinking back into his pillows as his thoughts collide with mine. I search for a memory. After a small amount of probing, I find it and drag it from the depths.

We both watch together. Despite struggling for breath, I hear Jim laughing slightly. This was a happy memory to him; Chekov's birthday party on the _Enterprise. _It had been a hectic night with a lot of dancing and singing. Jim had been so illogically drunk that he was even more reckless than usual. The next memory I found was one of Jim and myself on a very dangerous mission. Jim had been shot in the leg that day as he tried to save me from almost certain death. I had to carry him back to safety over my shoulder. Then I found the memory when he said he was glad I was his first officer.

It is difficult maintaining the mind meld because Jim's human emotions were so powerful that they were breaking through my concentration. I try not to force any connection because that would hurt him. I slip through oceans of thought until I found the image of a peaceful day fifty years ago. The _Enterprise _crew had come to ground on Earth so the ship could be repaired and Jim had insisted we go to the beach. Despite my objections, I enjoyed the experience very much and from the brightness of the memory I could tell Jim did too. He'd spent the day running around in his shorts and eating ice cream. He turned several heads with his toned body that day and half the crew had bets he'd be in someone else's bed that night. With Jim it can sometimes be very had to disapprove of his actions.

I feel a jolt as Jim's mind falters. I fight to keep him calm and keep his mind going through the happy memories of our time together, memories of his mother, memories of the late Doctor McCoy. I feel his mind straining to cling to life and I try to help. I feel his body tensing again and I carefully slide my chair closer to him to allow easier contact. I slide one hand down his face and around the back of his neck. I hold gently massage his neck to help him breathe easier. It has little effect and I feel something close to despair.

"I love you, Spock," a sudden thought forces its way to the forefront of both our minds. I am startled and I nearly lost the connection between our minds. I force myself to remain tranquil and merge his mind with mine again but then it slips from my grip like water through my fingers. I try to find the edges of his mind to allow myself access again but there is nothing to find. It is then that Jim's head lolls slightly in my grip and all the tension leaves him.

James T. Kirk is dead. I allow myself to cry.


End file.
